Chapter 10
Poe got back to Cowie House around noon. He parked on the double yellow lines and hauled all of Adam Malloy’s electronic bullshit up to their office. It took him three trips. There had been laptops, desktops and a smart TV to collect. Numerous handheld devices.
‘I’ll get all this connected and run my programs,’ Bradshaw said.
‘How long?’
‘I hooked up the laptop first. We can check that now. The rest will be ready in an hour.’
‘Malloy said he’d been watching porn all evening and he couldn’t remember which one was showing when he coerced Esmerée into his room. He thought he’d invited her in – his words, not mine – around eight p.m. Does that sound about right, Esmerée?’
She nodded. ‘I’d just had my supper. Cook made me an omelette that tasted like it came out of a horse’s butt.’
Esmerée had wandered into Cowie House as though no one had been scouring the streets of Carlisle for her the night before.
Which, of course, from her perspective they hadn’t.
She’d spent the day hammering Adam Malloy’s credit cards.
The way she figured it, she’d had to leave Musgrave Hall in a hurry, so he was responsible for replacing all of her ‘shit’.
Bradshaw had back-doored her way into the credit card company and told Poe that as well as taking a suite at the Crown and Mitre, Esmerée had bought clothes, an iPad, an iPhone and some make-up.
Poe was disappointed. He’d hoped she’d have spent more.
Malloy wasn’t going to report his card missing any time soon.
‘OK,’ Bradshaw said. ‘I’ll highlight the material between seven thirty and eight thirty. You’ll just need to click the links I send.’
‘We’ll watch them together,’ Esmerée said. ‘It’ll be quicker that way. I didn’t see much of my mom, as she was wearing a mask, but the senile lardass clapping cheeks with her had more blond hair than Johnny Bravo.’
‘Who?’ Poe said.
‘He’s a cartoon character from the late nineties,’ Bradshaw said. ‘Loosely based on Elvis Presley and James Dean. He’s a dim-witted, boorish narcissist who lives with his mother. Each episode was about him trying to get a woman to have sex with him.’
‘Sounds shit,’ Poe said. ‘And I’ll be watching this stuff on my own, Esmerée.’
‘Hey, you’re not jerking off to my mom, asshole!’
‘Nor am I watching pornography with a fifteen-year-old girl.’
‘Why? I ain’t no virgin.’
‘What’s that got to do with anything?’
Esmerée scowled.
‘Don’t worry, Esmerée,’ Bradshaw said. ‘Poe doesn’t masturbate any more, do you, Poe? Not now he’s married to Estelle. I imagine they have a very fulfilling sex life.’
Which kinda turned Esmerée’s frown upside down.
So much so that she had to leave the room, she was laughing so hard.
She returned two minutes later, her eyes still red.
‘Yo, you gotta warn me if you’re gonna say shit like that, Till-meister,’ she said after she’d retaken her seat. ‘I almost peed my pants.’
‘Stop imagining my sex life, you weirdo,’ Poe said to Bradshaw. ‘And when did this “Till-meister” thing start?’
‘Esmerée thought I needed a nickname,’ Bradshaw said. ‘She added the suffix “meister”, which is German for “master”, to the shortened form of Tilly. When I asked her to stop, she made up a rude song about it. She’s quite childish, Poe.’
‘That’s because she is a child, Tilly,’ Poe said. ‘And our laws could not be clearer. Adults do not view pornographic material with anyone under the age of sixteen. I’ll watch everything you send me, and as soon as I see anyone with a tattoo on her foot, I’ll—’
‘The sole of her foot,’ Esmerée cut in.
‘… I’ll get Tilly to screenshot it. Then and only then will I get you to confirm it’s your mother.’
‘And if it is?’ Esmerée asked.
‘Then we’re one step closer to finding her.’
She nodded. ‘Good,’ she said. She slapped her skinny thighs. Rose to her feet. ‘Well, if I’m getting kicked out, I’m hauling my butt to Micky D’s for a burger and shake. Spend some more of that asshole’s money.’
Poe stood. ‘We call it Maccy D’s in the UK, and I quite fancy a burg—’
‘Sit down, Poe,’ Bradshaw said.
‘Ha-ha,’ Esmerée said, pointing. ‘More McNuggets for good ol’ me.’
‘You need to sit too, Esmerée.’
‘Why?’ Poe asked.
‘Well, for one thing, Estelle says your diet has got even worse, and neither of us thought that was possible. If she finds out I let you have food that’s barely fit for human consumption, she’ll have my guts for garters.’
Esmerée sniggered.
‘But more importantly, we need to talk about Esmerée.’
‘We do?’
‘Yes, Poe.’
‘Why?’
‘Because she’s a ghost.’
Esmerée stopped sniggering.